Fly Me Away From Here
by sick-atxxheart
Summary: A collection of oneshots from one of my favorite movies, Fly Away Home. You don't need to know the story to understand. Please check it out and read and review.
1. Break

**Break  
****by sick-atxxheart  
****category: Fly Away Home**

The road was dark but the lights from the other cars were blinding. Amy Alden hummed contentedly to the music blaring through her headphones as she watched the multi-colored lights zoom by, flashing by faster and faster, and then slower, as the speed limits on the main expressway in New Zealand changed in accordance with the surroundings. Her mom was seated next to her, driving through the night, her hair falling gently to her shoulders. Amy thought her mom was beautiful. She was a singer, and all singers are beautiful in some respect, whether it is in body, simply their voice, or both; but the smile that seemed to constantly be on the woman's face was what made her unusual look all the more radiant. Her face was lit up as she drove, and Amy watched her, listening both to music and her mom's voice speaking on the telephone. Their life was a whirlwind, a never-ending spiral of confusion and excitement, and Amy loved every bit of it; but these special moments with her mom, when they could both be just themselves, was what she especially treasured.

Their journey continued, Amy relaxing with her music, leaning back into her seat and closing her eyes for the briefest of moments before she opened them again to watch the road pass them by. It was all so peaceful- until a dreadful swerve shattered the comfortable silence.

All that Amy knew before she lost consciousness was her world swirling in circles, a dreadful scream, and then pain.

The world was encompassed in white, a blinding pressure of light that pressed against Amy's eyelids, awakening her senses and forcing her to feel something again. She slowly opened her eyes, feeling the bruises that covered them in every imaginable spot. She was cautious, to the point of being overly so- she remembered driving in the car with her mom, and then the final sense had been unimaginable, incomprehensible, unbearable pain that had completely controlled her for the longest time.

Amy didn't want to admit it, but she was scared.

The white that blinded her was replaced with the image of a hospital room as she opened her eyes. A curtain waved in the breeze, hanging in the open window near her bed; a white sheet covered her; and the only hand that was in her immediate view was occupied by an IV and a line that ran off onto the cart placed strategically next to her bed.

Experimentally, Amy moved, stretching her legs and shifting her body in the smallest increments until she was laying with her face nearly looking completely at the ceiling.

"Amy?!" The gentle but surprised voice startled Amy, scared her even, and straining her neck she could see a man who had been sleeping in a kneeling position, his face resting on her bed.

"Dad?" Amy responded in turn, surprised to see her father, as she had not seen him in ten years; she was even more shocked that she had recognized him. Grimacing at how hoarse and raspy her voice sounded, betraying just how weak she felt, she continued. "What are you doing here?" Amy inwardly smiled at the subtle hints of her accent, noticing the difference between her speech and her father's Canadian-influenced words.

Thomas Alden hesitated, taking the moment to rub the sleep out of his eyes and run a hand through his shaggy, scraggly hair. "Well... I've come to take you home."

Amy stared at her father, the man she hadn't seen or been in contact with for ten years, for a moment that seemed to last an eternity. Her mind was running ten thousand miles a minute, and her thoughts were racing as to what the man could possibly mean. 'Take you home'? Didn't going to a different home mean that your previous home didn't exist anymore...?

"What do you mean?" Amy's voice was again hoarse, but this time it was weighted down even more by sheer emotion.

"Well-" Thomas started out, his eyes crinkling with anticipation and regret, the spark that seemed to fit with his face fading quickly.

Amy cut him off. Her soul and her heart were pounding in fear, hoping with all their might that their gut feeling wasn't true. Because if it was, she knew she would fall apart.

"Tell me," she commanded, her voice growing stronger. "Mum died, didn't she?"

--

The ceiling seemed insanely interesting to Amy as she stared at it for hours on end. Her mom was dead, the person she had spent her entire life with, who had grown to know her as well as she knew herself- she was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

Amy was alone.

Her father had come to take her away, back to Canada. Amy had always been good at adapting- she had had to be to follow her mother's busy, ever moving schedule- but this was different. She was leaving behind everything, _everything_, she knew, and nothing would be the same. There was no one who understood her to talk to anymore. She wouldn't be able to see her mother's smile ever again, or hear her sweet voice sing live.

That was what hurt. She would _never_ see her again.

Her father had turned out to be surprisingly kind, and they were more alike than Amy had initially realized. She guessed it wouldn't be too bad living with him; they both were rather quiet people, living their life. They both were curious and adventurous.

Amy knew she was all these things; she had always known what she was good at.

But right now, she was falling apart.

And for once, Amy knew what she had to do. She had to let herself be sad. She had to let herself cry.

She had to allow herself to break.

And she did. She cried until her heart felt like it would rip into a million pieces; she screamed at her mom for leaving her alone; she screamed for the pain; she cried for the pain; she sobbed, wishing her mom were with her; she gasped for breath, feeling pressured by her world caving in on her; she felt cold tears stream down her cheeks because she was alone. She cried for everything she left behind; she screamed for the smiles that were unexistent on her face, now; she gasped for breath after she had screamed her throat raw; and she felt cold tears stream down her cheeks because she had nothing left.

And then she sat in silence.

She had allowed herself to break.

FIN

--

**_What did you think? This could relate to anyone because it is only the original part of the story. If you have never seen this, I highly suggest you watch it. It is an amazing movie. You know how everyone has their 'happy' movie or book or show, where when you watch it just makes you happy? That's mine._**

**_Please review._**


	2. Father

_"Why did all this have to happen?"_

Her words echoed through his head, repeating over and over and haunting him. None of this was his fault- it was _not_his fault that Amy's mother- he couldn't even think her name- had died, but now it was here, and it was real. That much he couldn't deny. But in the entirety of it all, every time he saw Amy sitting by herself, lying in her bed or desolately in the field, her mind only filled with thoughts of the times that couldn't be brought back- his heart broke a little more.

_"Why did all this have to happen?"_

Again, it was back, and under his breath he cursed silently. Some of this _was_, of course, his fault. It had to be. Amy's mother- once again, _nameless_- had left him, and because of that Amy had been on tour with her and had been traveling from place to place, with no where to call home and no one to really know other than her mother. That, he supposed, had to have been difficult, and because of that he partly blamed himself. But now, when he saw her, broken- for she _was _broken- tears would fill his eyes and his heart would be ultimately saddened.

_Nameless._

_Broken._

_There is nothing._

From his own grief when Amy's mother had left him, he could sympathize with how she was feeling. Like there was no one there. Like there was nothing left. For her, he could see how she could feel like that- so easily. Everything she knew had been ripped away from her, and here in this strange place with a strange man, her father, who she barely remembered, she would- and did- feel more lost than ever. All the times where his eyes had been filled with tears, all the times whne he had thought himself to be so broken without any chance of ever being put together- he had blocked that out of his mind, and now more than anything he didn't want to look back and see how he had made it through. Tears and moving on and just living, he supposed- letting that grief out, letting himself live in his pain- there _was_ nothing else. There couldn't be.

That was the only thing he could do.

Be there for Amy, and support her. After all, he was her _father_. And that made her more important than anything.

Than _anything. _

_--_

**Decided to write another. Please review.**


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